


For You Are Mine At Last

by Signsofsam



Series: Make You Feel (My Love) [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Because of Reasons, But I also apologize for everything, But still pulls a bit from canon, F/M, Fix-It, I apologize for nothing, Jaime and Tormund are bros, The continuing redemption of Jaime Lannister, post-8x04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 19:24:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19707880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Signsofsam/pseuds/Signsofsam
Summary: “I’ve had a bath drawn for you,” he starts, his smile turning to a grin when she rolls her eyes. “I know they’re your favorite, Ser.”“I’ve missed you, too,” she answers, eyes widening when he takes her hand, raising it to his lips and pressing a kiss on her middle knuckle. “Jaime, there are people watching.”“Then they’ll get to see how in love with you I am.” The words are so matter-of-fact, something he believes wholeheartedly. She knew he loved her; he’s said it to her so many times in bed, in stolen moments, but they’ve always been alone when he says them.Until now.





	For You Are Mine At Last

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hi. I'm back, and apparently still writing. Thanks D&D for completely shitting all over Jaime's arc, since it means I'm still writing?
> 
> Title is from Etta James' **At Last**
> 
> Please enjoy, leave kudos and comments if you want.

_ “I could go with you, if-” Brienne kisses him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she moves, her fingers running through his hair. “I know what you’re trying to do, wench, and it won’t-” He moans as she shifts, grins down at him as he gives her a glare. “I’m simply saying-” _

_ “You don’t want to be in King’s Landing, Jaime,” she interrupts, kissing him again, gently, a reminder that they’d already made plans, with Sansa, with the North, and those plans included Jaime staying in Winterfell, helping to oversee the training of their new soldiers, making sure that if the keep was attacked, there was someone there experienced enough to protect it. It’s also a kindness on Sansa’s part, so that he doesn’t have to see what’s left of his sister or the city. He knows this, but still, he offers, because it’s Brienne (his Brienne) and what kind of lover? friend? would he be to not offer his sword to her again? _

_ One of her hands trails down to his cheek, resting in his graying beard, forcing him to look at her. “I will be all right, ser. And it’s...it’s easier to leave, to be there for Lady Sansa, knowing you’ll be here, keeping our home safe.” And how his heart starts at  _ ‘our home’ _ , because she’s right, as she most often is; Winterfell has become their home. He nuzzles into her hand, turning so he can kiss her palm, and he sees the fire light in her eyes, and suddenly he’s shoved down into the pillow, her hands trapping his own on the sheets, and she’s moving just as he likes, and he can’t think about anything but Brienne and love and pleasure as it overcomes him. _

_ Afterwards, he presses an irreverent kiss to her sternum, just above her breasts, and rests his head there, just a little to the left, to hear her heartbeat. “I’m going to miss you,” he says softly, and he can feel her smile as she strokes his hair. “I’m going...fuck, Brienne, I’m going to miss you so much.” _

_ “And I’ll miss you,” she answers, voice just as soft, and he finds himself shifting so he can look into her eyes. “But I’ll be coming back, Jaime. Knowing you’re here? I’ll be coming back.” _

A heavy-handed  _ whack _ jerks Jaime out of his thoughts, and he hears Tormund laugh as the wildling Jaime had been sparring with dances back, grinning broadly. “Thinking about the big woman, Kingslayer?” Tormund teases, raising one eyebrow as Jaime glares at him. “I would be, too, if she’d taken me to her bed.” 

“You know, you can shut up at any point in time,” Jaime snaps, and Tormund’s grin widens to a full-fledge smile. Jaime knows he’s joking, but it’s Brienne, and she’s always a sore spot, especially in the many moons she’s been gone. Tormund knows this, because for some reason, Tormund has decided to stay around Winterfell, and for some reason, has decided he needs to befriend Jaime. He forces Jaime to spar with him. He helps with rebuilding, and cleaning up rubble. Before Sansa and Brienne left, he stood with them in council sessions, offering his opinions and suggestions on how to handle getting Jon back, just as Jaime had. He sits with Jaime for meals, which means the rest of the wildlings sit with him. They call him Kingslayer without caring about how he got the dubious title; they see it as an honor, that someone was crazy and in charge of an entire realm and Jaime did what he needed to do in order to keep people safe.

Somehow, Tormund has become a friend to Jaime, but right now, he’s a pain in the ass, with a stupid laugh and a stupid smile as he manages another hit to Jaime’s right forearm. “Pay attention, Kingslayer.”

Jaime grits his teeth and goes on the attack, and soon enough, Tormund’s on his back, wooden sword behind him, hands up in surrender. “You yield?”

“I yield, I yield. Gods, I hope she gets back soon; you need some relief.” Jaime glares again, but he helps Tormund up. “I can understand, though. Big, strong woman like that? I bet she’s fun-”

“You finish that sentence and we’ll be sparring with actual weapons,” Jaime snaps, “and you aren’t going to like how that ends.”

“Testy, testy, Kingslayer.” Tormund’s smile has never faltered, and it’s still wide, still teasing. He finally relents, smile dropping as Jaime exhales. “You heard anything from them?”

“Not since they reached King’s Landing. It’s worrisome, is all.”  _ Starks don’t fare well in the South _ , he thinks, but doesn’t say; he can’t think about that right now. Everything will be fine, and Brienne  _ will _ come back.

He tries to ignore the tiny ball of worry inside that says he doesn’t know what he’ll do if she doesn’t. 

\--//--//--

The raven comes a few days later, written in Brienne’s careful hand.  _ We’re returning on the morrow, though Bran-King Bran, I suppose-will be staying here, as will Tyrion. He sends his love, says he’s glad you stayed, and says he will write to you soon. We’ll be bringing Lord Snow with us; he’s...unwell. The Queen is worried. Frankly, I  _ am _ worried. He seems….lost. Queen Sansa is hoping being back home, in the North, will help.  _

_ I miss you, Ser Jaime. When we return, I feel we have much to discuss about our future. _

_ Yours, _

_ Brienne _

It’s not much, but it tells him that Brienne is returning. The ball of worry that’d grown since Sansa and Brienne had left loosens, just a bit, even more as he reads over  _ I miss you _ over and over again. He’s still looking over the scroll, small smile on his face, when Tormund enters the great hall, already in a loud conversation with another wildling. “Didn’t know you knew how to smile like that anymore, Kingslayer,” he says easily as he sits at the table, eyes on the scroll. “Good news?”

“They’re on their way back.”

“And the crow?”

“Jon Snow is returning, too,” Jaime answers affirmatively. “Though, I think he’s...he killed her, the Dragon Queen. He’s...Brienne says he’s unwell.”

“Fucker’s come back from the dead; think he can handle bein’ lovesick. Nothing he hasn’t felt before,” Tormund mutters, though Jaime can see his concern, too. He’d told Tormund about what happened in King’s Landing, about Daenerys going mad, about Jon having to kill her, and Tormund had mentioned that Jon Snow had awful luck with women. When Jaime had pressed, Tormund reluctantly told him a little about a wilding kissed by fire named Ygritte, and how she’d died in Jon Snow’s arms when the wildings had attacked the Wall. 

At some point, it gets harder and harder to return to yourself from devastation, Jaime thinks, fingers roaming over the words. He’d learned that lesson himself, and almost drowned in it, the night he almost left Brienne to go back to Cersei. 

“And the big woman? How’s she?” 

Just like that, Jon Snow had been pushed from his mind as Jaime rolls his eyes at Tormund and asks if he wants to pick this fight right before training.

\--//--//--

Jon looks like shit, Jaime decides as he watches the horses enter through the newly repaired gates of Winterfell. He’s thinner, and his eyes are dead. He’s always been a particular sort of broody, but now he seems...wrecked, like his entire being is off center. He rides beside Sansa, and she’s constantly glancing to him, as if to make sure he’s still breathing. Behind them is Brienne, her eyes clearly on him. He grins at her, holding up his gold hand in a wave that was reminiscent of their last meeting in Riverrun, and she smiles back, soft and light and it’s everything he’s been missing for so long, even more so when she raises her hand back. 

He’s in the training yard already, having called an early end to the children’s practice, the queen’s retinue having been spotted along the Kingsroad nearly an hour earlier. Tormund is there somewhere, as is Jon’s giant beast of a direwolf (if Jaime’s being honest, he’s pet Ghost more than a time or two. Possibly let him lay at his feet in the small solar of his and Brienne’s room since his master was gone and the wolf seemed lonely, taken to pacing the halls of Winterfell. He might have also let the thing follow him around, and sit at the edge of the training yard, and growl at Tormund the one time the wildling accidentally hit his right arm just at the seam of the fake arm and the sensitive nerves of his stump, cutting him enough to make him bleed and hitting hard enough to make him gasp in pain. Really, he was just comforting the beast while it was alone). The Northmen are here, the lords that didn’t follow Jon or Sansa south and the men and women who’ve been helping to rebuild Winterfell, all out to great their Queen.

He waits as Sansa is helped off her horse, before offering a wry smile and bow. “Welcome home, Your Grace.”

“I never thought we’d get to the time when the great Jaime Lannister would be bowing to me, let alone calling me ‘Your Grace’,” she answers with her own little smile, looking around, at all the repairs that have occurred while she was away. “Winterfell is still standing, so that’s something.” The words would cut if they were from anyone but Sansa, but he takes them as a compliment instead, and bobs his head in agreement. “Thank you, Ser Jaime.” The other words are there, not spoken:  _ thank you for taking care of Winterfell, thank you for keeping it safe _ .

“Of course, Your Grace.” After all, Winterfell is now his home, too. 

\--//--//--

Sansa dismisses them all for awhile, locking her arm in the crook of Jon’s and leading him inside, a happy Tormund on his other side, and Ghost on hers’. Jaime waits as Brienne gives Pod instructions, smiling brightly when she finally turns back to him. “I’ve had a bath drawn for you,” he starts, his smile turning to a grin when she rolls her eyes. “I know they’re your favorite, Ser.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” she answers, eyes widening when he takes her hand, raising it to his lips and pressing a kiss on her middle knuckle. “Jaime, there are people watching.”

“Then they’ll get to see how in love with you I am.” The words are so matter-of-fact, something he believes wholeheartedly. She knew he loved her; he’s said it to her so many times in bed, in stolen moments, but they’ve always been alone when he says them.

_ Until now _ .

“Brienne? I didn’t….you don’t-” His face blanks, hiding the hurt that comes with yet another love deciding that he wasn’t worthy of something more than stolen moments and secret rendezvous. It hurts, coming from Brienne. He backs away, unsure, and she can’t have that. She grabs onto his leather jerkin, hauls him to press against her, his arms wrapping around her, and she kisses him. When he pulls away, just enough to lean his forehead against hers’, he’s smiling again, relief laid bare. 

“I love you too, Jaime. I don’t care who knows.”

He leads her to their room, where the bath sits, still hot, and carefully works her clothes off. She’s exhausted, from the road, from Kings Landing, and she wears that exhaustion in all her muscles, tense and tight. She hisses when she sinks into the tub. She’s dirty, the Kingsroad and filth of the city sticking to her, and so Jaime reaches for the wash rag, dipping it in the tub before beginning the slow task of cleaning her. “I can do it,” she says at some point, eyes on his face, reaching up to cup his cheek, letting him kiss her palm.

“I know you can, but let me. I want to.” He runs the cloth over her breasts, her nipples, and she moans, hand dropping to grip the edge of the tub. The cloth dips lower, her abdomen, her thighs, trailing down one leg, then the other, and she can feel pleasure building in her core. He drops the cloth, and his clever fingers slip inside her. “You’re awfully tense, my love...my Brienne. Let me help you relax.”

“Jaime-” It’s a murmur, but she gasps as he strokes, eyes closing as she sinks into the feeling. Water splashes against the stone floor, the only sound in their room other than Brienne’s gasps and moans, and it builds until she finally climaxes, his name drawn out and breathy, hands clutching the edge of the tub, white-knuckled. She lets out a satisfied breath, hands releasing the edge, one grabbing his shirt, much as she’d done in the yard, the other wrapping around the back of his neck, pulling him into another heated kiss. 

They stumble back to the bed, Jaime losing his clothes as they go, and their lovemaking is frantic, the first time. It’s them finding their way together again, the way Brienne moves to make Jaime moan her name, her nails biting into his shoulders, his back, his ass, the way Jaime nips her earlobe, the scars on her neck, his hand wrapping through her hair as he kisses her, hot and needy. Later, it will be slow and sensual, making up for lost moments in their time apart, but for now, it’s hurried and frenetic, a relearning of each other, their reconnection.

Finally, Jaime feels whole again, the missing piece of his heart returned in the form of a very tall blonde knight with eyes like sapphire who loves him even when everyone can see.

**Author's Note:**

> There will probably be another part? I think? Because I still want a Jon and Jaime bromance. And honestly, I'm really liking writing this series (even if I'm not so sure about the middle of this story). It makes me love writing again.
> 
> Again, leave kudos and comments if you want, and I'll see you next time!


End file.
